


What Happens at the Hospital

by Icedcoffeeslut



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hospital Flirting, Hospitalization, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, I Should be Studying for my Final, Insecure Marinette, Major Character Injury, Marinette Is a Nurse, Rose is a Really Good Wingwoman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icedcoffeeslut/pseuds/Icedcoffeeslut
Summary: Chat Noir gets very hurt in battle and Ladybug makes sure he makes it to the hospital. however, it's quite the surprise to both Marinette and Adrien when Marinette gets assigned to be his nurse





	What Happens at the Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> hi i wrote this instead of studying for my two finals in the morning, but i'm happy i'm able to write again for the first time in five million years! this might start out a little angsty but I promise by the end of this chapter and after we'll pretty much be in humor/fluff territory ;) i hope y'all like this!!

_ “Chat Noir!” _

She spins her yoyo around the building’s light post and pulls her body down toward the rocky ground, breaking into a run as quickly as her feet touch the gravel. Her heart is pounding against the walls of her chest, and her feet are stumbling as she races toward his motionless figure. When she reaches him, she leans down over his chest and hesitantly grazes his cheek with her fingertips before her eyes follow down his face and toward his mangled mess of a torso, bent incorrectly and long gashes all across its expanse. She berates herself in her head and bites her tongue until it bleeds so that she won’t openly curse herself loud enough to attract more attention. She shifts his body to the side and, as gently as she can, moves Chat Noir and herself into the shadows with little more volume than a quiet scuffling of feet and a low groan from his chest as she lowers his neck and head to her lap. 

“Chat… stay awake--Chat, I need you to stay awake so I can check you into a hospital. You’re going to be fine--you’ve just got to stay conscious!”

He groans again and Ladybug can see how desperately he tries to keep his eyes open despite his body fighting every motion. She leans down and listens to his heartbeat while her fingers stay against his wrist, checking his pulse. His chest is thudding rapidly and she worries that the adrenaline will cause the marks to split open and break him apart. 

“Goddamnit Chat  _ stay awake! _ ”

His face is paling as she tries to channel his kwami, her only hope of keeping their identities secret at this point. Chat Noir’s lids are slowly, painstakingly closing and she knows she has no other option but to let him transform back to his civilian self.  _ No, but she isn’t ready!  _ She doesn’t want to know yet. She might not ever want to know.

Her eyes start to pop as she can feel his exterior morphing and shimmering. She knows that his kwami must have decided what she knew to be the only outcome. Soon Chat Noir, the black cat of destruction, will be a simple blond Parisian sprawled along the corner of an alley in the dead of night. Ladybug may have finished off the akuma, but only seconds after its long, monstrous claws had ripped through Chat’s flesh and cracked his ribs to pieces. It was with vengeance that she had purified that awful little creature and she hadn’t bothered to monitor the victim of the akumazation wander off into the darkness. Now here he was, the alien magic swirling around him and separating the kwami from its holder. Ladybug knew as well as he did that the kwami was able to absorb some of the pain, that which was caused by the akuma and not by the impact of the blow. It would help him stay alive and out of risk of extreme danger, but it wouldn’t fix him by any means. Chat would be suffering from this attack for a long time.

Ladybug’s mind began to dart back and forth, weighing her options. A steady panic begins in her chest as she watches his leather gleam and transform into denim, his fingers and wrists becoming bare as the leather melts away from his skin. She watches her partner become completely human, his leather muscles suddenly covered by flesh instead. She can’t bear to look at his face. It’s so vulnerable, something soft covered by a facade that she doesn’t want to break. He is  _ right there.  _ Her partner’s real face is  _ right there. _

She turns her head as fast as she can as the glimmering effect of the change finally comes to an end. Ladybug sits on her knees on the ground next to him, tears in her eyes, as she holds the hand of her unconscious Chat Noir and feels the kwami sidle up against her leg, utterly exhausted. She spares a look at the little figure, but only because she still can’t manage to let her years of hard work go to waste. She refuses to look at him.

Instead, she digs into his pants’ pocket and grabs his phone. She dials the three digits as fast as her fingers can fly and orders an ambulance to come to the alley as quickly as possible. There is a pedestrian suffering injuries from an akuma attack found in the alley behind the flower shop downtown and he needs medical assistance immediately. She knows exactly what kind of medics are necessary and when she says her name--her  _ real  _ name--they understand that she knows precisely how serious the situation is. The truck will arrive in minutes.

“I had to,” Ladybug hears a voice muster out. Chat Noir’s kwami looks like a small, rounded black cat, and she vaguely recalls him telling her that his name is Plagg, “He was on the brink of death. He wouldn’t have died, but I couldn’t let him go through that pain--not when I could have helped.”

“I understand,” Ladybug replies, her heart twisting in every direction. She makes sure Chat is in the most comfortable, breathable position he can be without her eyes wandering, “I do. I’m just so scared. We can’t know yet. I’m not  _ ready _ \--”

“Yeah, yeah, we know you aren’t,” the kwami Plagg says, before coughing several times, “But will you ever be ready? It’s been six years and he knows you don’t want anything, but you also know he’d  _ do  _ anything for you to want to know him like he wants to know you.”

Her stomach churns and she holds back a sob. She’s sickened with herself. Here she is after so many years, sitting with her best friend as he suffers through agony and a near death experience, and she’s still too insecure about her own identity to let even  _ Chat Noir _ know who she really is. How could she be so selfish?

“I know. I know, okay?” she says in a voice barely above a whisper. She looks at his legs now, covered in jeans and fitted to his muscular calves and thighs. She wishes she wanted to know who they belonged to, but right now all she wishes is to see leather. “It’s just… complicated. I guess it has to happen at some point in our lives, but our relationship is too important for me to mess up. Once he knows who I am… it can’t ever be the same. He won’t act the same. The mystery will be gone and I’ll be boring to him.”

Plagg squints at her from his relaxed position. He grunts in discomfort as he shifts his weight to his little back paws, “You will never be boring to that kid. He might be all grown up, but he’s still got a schoolboy crush on you. I honestly don’t think he’s ever even kissed a girl before, just because he’s never felt for anyone the way he feels for you. And I’m sure you look  _ something  _ similar in the real world, right toots?” 

He winks at Ladybug and she sighs in exasperation and only an edge of humor. She knows Plague means the best, but she feels trapped in some terrible circle. She can’t lose Chat. Everything could change if he knew it was her. She  _ still  _ can’t even look at him.

“I would hope so,” she replies, “But you don’t get it. He’ll be…disappointed. I’m a whole different person out there, and I love him too much to risk this. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. 

“Shit, you love him?”

She curses herself and chomps down on her tongue again. That came out all wrong.

“Plagg--it is Plagg, isn’t it?--I love him because we save each other’s lives,” she says, and she attempts to explain herself, “I  _ trust  _ him. I’m not  _ in love  _ with him. Those feelings… I try to stay away from them. I’m a mess when it comes to love.”

“Okay, this is officially far too mushy for me,” he responds, “I just want to make sure you’re not messing with him. The guy’s got a good head on his shoulders, and I’d hate to see some chick like you stomping all over his him. Don’t get me wrong--you’re brave and all and I like the pigtails! But he’s in too deep at this point. He’d wake up now and if he saw you in trouble, he’d somehow find a way to get in front of you, even in his state. I love that goofball, and if you could see him at home--”

Suddenly, the night is loud again. The sirens come from two directions, and an ambulance pulls in faster than Ladybug can cover Plague with her fingers, but he is already gone too. The kwami is nestled inside Chat Noir’s denim pockets, hugging his phone, before her eyes can even slide up just a  _ little farther  _ to his white cotton button up stained partially with blood. She briefly notices that the top two buttons are undone in the most tastefully enticing fashion, and then there are stretchers, and two men are lifting his unconscious body onto the flat surface. Ladybug’s mind is still spinning as she glances through her eyelids at his nearly motionless body, moving up and down and looking so much less mangled than when he did in his suit but so much more vulnerable now. 

“Ladybug, where did Marinette go?”

She spins around to see someone familiar, someone whose voice she recognizes, but now everything is happening so quickly and she is all out of sorts and _wow_ she needs to detransform soon… 

“Mari...Marinette….oh! Right, um, she happened to be here as the battle was being finished since--apparently--she lives in that bakery a few streets over? Or something? This guy here got scratched by the akuma--some nasty clawed monster--and got flung against that building. After the purification, his scratches went away but the blow still affected him something awful. I still can’t tell whether or not he has broken ribs or internalized bruising, but apparently she did because she called the hospital and rattled off a bunch of nonsense. I told her she could go home, since she looked pretty spooked.”

Ladybug holds her breath, her head pounding and her jaw clenched. She knows herself, doesn’t she? She can pretend to be in two places at once, since she literally has to be, as far as her coworkers have to know. 

“Marinette has had a long week,” the woman says. Now that her head is clearer once more, she can see that it is Rose and that she’s been on call tonight, “I understand that she was probably a bit shocked, even though she’s usually cool in most situations concerning injuries. I guess it is the middle of the night… I didn’t even hear her identify the guy. I should probably check and see if it’s someone we know--”

“ _Okay!”_ Ladybug squeals, “Well, I must be off now, it’s only a matter of time before I have to detransform! Please give the patient my best, _sincerest_ wishes and tell him that I wish he didn’t have to get hurt. Tell him…. tell him Ladybug has got everything covered. Thank you so much Ro--Nurse! Please drive safely tonight.”

Before she can be tempted again by that tousled, blond hair peeking out from the top of the stretcher, Ladybug throws her yoyo around the building’s light post again, and does three full loops around the streets before landing on top of her own roof. She opens up the trapdoor, still in her suit, slides into the hatch, and finally crawls down to her room. Ladybug lands on the bed, detransforming as she hits the covers and she is simple, sweet Marinette once more. She can feel Tikki by her neck, breathing heavily and far too out of energy to give even the simplest advice. 

Marinette sits up with her remaining energy, reaches over to her desk drawer, and opens it, grabbing the unopened bag of emergency chocolate chip cookies for Tikki. Tikki rolls over to the bag, opens it, and greedily begins to munch on its contents as Marinette stumbles over to her bathroom. She lands on her butt on the tile floor before a wave of anxious nausea passes through her and she settles her head between her knees. 

Several minutes pass, and Marinette stands up shakily. She places each hand on a corner of her sink and looks at herself in the mirror, eyes open and searching. She isn’t sure what she’s looking for, but she knows she doesn’t find it. Not in the reflection of that dirty, raven hair and pale round face. She stares herself in the eyes and searches for that something that Chat Noir always affectionately teases about, something deep and beautiful inside those big blue orbs. But perhaps she’s too tired to keep looking, or perhaps the glean of sweat covering her face is just a little too bothersome to ignore at this point, because the nausea is back. 

Marinette lurches to the toilet and releases the little content that remained in her stomach from her dinner so many hours ago, then heaves herself up by the sink once again. She splashes water on her face and almost feels as if she might be better, but Marinette knows that this night either took a serious toll on her, or she has caught something atrocious because she almost instantly feels another unsettling wave in her stomach. 

 

* * * 

 

At eight o’clock the next morning, Marinette calls in sick. She stays in bed for four days and while she hates missing work and her patrols, there have been no more akuma attacks and she feels as if she deserves a break. She reads, does schoolwork, and finishes paperwork for her parents since they so graciously allow her to live at home while she finishes getting her degree. While her time away gives her something of a sense of relief, the guilt and stress eats away at the other part of her--the part that needs to know how Chat Noir is doing. 

At first, her bout of flu doesn’t let her go far, but she finally decides that she should return to work. After work, Marinette will go on patrol and hopefully-- _ hopefully _ \--Chat will be there and on the mend. If not, she just has to assume that he is in one of the hospitals in Paris. There are so many, she really couldn’t know which he has been assigned to. She doesn’t plan to attempt to find out.

Her shift that Wednesday is at nine o’clock, so she gets to the hospital half an hour early to check for her patients and get settled back in. Marinette is determined to be dedicated and attentive all day long since she has been missing from her patients for the last four days. It is more than expected of her to be completely sure that she’s healthy before returning, because for God’s sake, she works in a _hospital_. Nonetheless, she must be on top of her game and prove that four days did nothing to her. She is, after all, only twenty-one and alongside Rose, one of the youngest people working at Hôpital Saint-Antoine. 

Marinette checks her list of patients and sees that two have been newly added. One appears to be a forty-seven year old man with kidney stones with the last name  _ Moreau _ . But the second name--

“ _ Agreste?”  _ she nearly shrieks, “Rose, does this really say  _ Adrien Agreste _ ?”

“Yeah! Oh, did I forget to tell you? I just can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” Rose exclaims in a much less strained tone, “He was checked in the other night. You’ll never believe, he--”

“My patient is  _ Adrien Agreste!”  _ Marinette interjects, and she nearly sees stars when she closes her eyes, “Rose, do you not remember? I had the most  _ massive  _ crush on him in collège when we were fifteen. Like, a crush so big that I didn’t even have my first real kiss until I was  _ eighteen. _ Eighteen! I was so dead set that we’d be together, I said no to Nathan until we graduated  lycée. Rose, we’re talking  _ Adrien AGRES--” _

“Okay Marinette, I understand!” Rose laughs, and proceeds to hand Marinette her clipboard, “Well then maybe, here’s what you’ve been waiting for since  collège.”

“What?”

Rose smirks and gives her a knowing look, “Maybe Adrien was out of reach and ‘unattainable’ or some shit back then, but this is  _ now, _ ” she stares her in the eyes, then looks pointedly at the hallway, where room 376 was only a stroll away, “You’re older, hotter, and a fucking  _ nurse. _ That is literally every guy’s dream. I’m obviously not an option because I’m dating Juleka and the whole blond model thing is so  _ not  _ my type, but Marinette, this could be your chance!”

Marinette’s heart starts spasming. She feels strange, like her stomach is queasy again but in a pleasant, nervous way rather than a ‘vomiting’ way. She hasn’t felt this girlish and antsy since she was seventeen, seeing Adrien’s green eyes every single morning during class and melting every single day.

But there’s something strange, something… off. She feels as though she shouldn’t have gotten so excited by seeing Adrien’s name. It’s as if there’s someone else who should be more important to her and she’s cheating on him. A different, blond  _ him  _ who she knows a little more closely. But how can she be cheating on him when she refuses to even let him know her real name?

“I don’t know, Rose,” she replies, “I think… I should just see him. He’s my patient and it’s been years! He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Okay, okay, sure. Go ahead and let yourself think that. All I’m saying is that things might be a little different now. You never know.”

“Thanks Rose. I appreciate it,” Marinette responds with a smile. She takes a deep breath and lets it out through her nose. After a moment, she turns on her heel, clipboard in hand, and marches down the hallway without a look back. She has momentum now, and she has to walk quickly before her nerves get the better of her.

“Oh, and unbutton your shirt just a little bit!” Rose calls loudly from her place in the hallway, “Only like two buttons--you can’t play slutty nurse--but it doesn’t hurt to let the girls out since he might not remember them!”

 

* * *

 

“He-hello? Adrien--Adrien Agreste?”

_ There’s no way he even remembers me,  _ she thinks,  _ he probably won’t even recognize me. He’s a model and he sees a million girls every day and totally definitely won’t remember the girl who liked him all throughout collège and  _ _ lycée and holy shit he got so fucking hot-- _

“Hi! Um….Nurse Dupain-Ch--wait,” Adrien pauses, one hand on his head as if his brain is attempting to register her face and the other on his bruised chest, “ _ Marinette _ ?”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you all enjoyed this!! i'm so happy to be writing again, the next chapter should be up in a couple of days! please comment, i thrive on them :)


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